Inherited Traits
by chezchuckles
Summary: Alexis, after her rejection from Stanford, decides she needs to do more with her life than pad her transcript. Beckett and Castle help her organize a blood drive.  ...kudos to Vandi for the twist in this story... COMPLETE at 2
1. Chapter 1

Inherited Traits

* * *

><p>Alexis found him in the study working on last minute changes to the publicity schedule. He had two more bookstore signings next week before he was officially off-duty, but Gina had managed to squeeze in another meet and greet thing. He was dreading the formal wear when Alexis poked her head around the door.<p>

She didn't look much better than last night, but he stood up and smiled at her, wide and warm, reached out to hug her slim, fragile-feeling shoulders.

"So, uh, how is the precinct?" she asked, sitting on the arm of the chair in front of his desk. Had she come in to idly chat? It felt more like she was checking up on him.

Castle took the other one and tried to gauge her attitude. "Gates doesn't like me much. Only a matter of time. Kate is -" He wasn't sure how to reassure his daughter and yet also tell her the truth. "Kate's still going to therapy. Which is good. She's back, and doing good."

Alexis nodded, swallowed hard. "Dad, I still - I have dreams about it still. About the blood. And Kate. And - and Josh yelling at you. And - and the way your face looked-"

Castle sighed, slumped back in his chair. "Yeah. I do too, Alexis."

"I want to do something about it."

He lifted his head and squinted at her. She had the the family therapist every Monday at three. He'd sat in on two sessions at her request. "I don't think there's-"

"For Kate. I want to do something to show her. . ." Alexis trailed off, nervously playing with the edge of her tshirt. "Dad, I have to do something. Getting rejected by Stanford-"

"Hey, Alexis-"

"Dad." She stilled him with a glance, her eyes the hard white-blue of polar ice. "Not getting into Stanford has made me look at. . .at this, the way I do things. What I've focused on. Even when Kate nearly died, I was just so angry with her for doing that to you, and then angry with you for doing it to yourself."

Castle didn't try to answer her; they'd been over this before, through it and back again, and he knew Alexis well enough to recognize her long, nervous set-up for something else.

"Maybe Stanford saw something about my life that I've been pretending isn't true."

"Alexis," he interrupted, leaning forward to grab her hands. "You are an amazing-"

She squeezed back. "Let me say this. I just - I should've been focusing on real life. Not on AP tests and GPAs and padding my transcript. Looking at all the things I've done, all those clubs and events and trips that I put down on my college application. . .it's just hollow, Dad."

"Sometimes, Alexis, things that are important to us can look twisted, wrong, when traumatic events happen. Please don't sell yourself short, pumpkin. Just because of Stanford."

"It's not just because of Stanford. It's because of Kate."

His heart clenched at the desolation in his daughter's voice, knowing full well he'd put it there, he'd introduced her to it. Front row seats. Popcorn. All of it. He'd come from the 12th sharing murder details with her, bouncing ideas off her at times. How could he?

"Her whole life. . .she's a detective because she had this one moment in her life when everything that used to be important just. . .fell flat. And I think that happened to me when I saw - when I saw you tackle her, and heard the gunshot, and saw the blood." Her voice was a whisper now, her eyes on her hands in her lap. "It's not the same because she didn't die, but she. . .and you almost. . .and I-"

"It was scary," he said, sharing that moment with his daughter, trying not to minimize her feelings. Trying to keep her from dwelling on it though.

"And at first, what I focused on was you, Dad. Because you're what's most important to me. I don't want you to die."

Rick pressed his hands over his eyes and swallowed hard, lifted his face to look at his daughter, beseeching and broken. Still. "Alexis."

"That's not. . .not the point right now."

Oh?

"I'm not going to Stanford. But I have to go somewhere, I guess. Only it's been hard for me to care where else that might be. I have. . .a whole semester here now. No school. And I know what I need to do."

Oh. "What's that?"

"I want to show them-" Show Stanford? "Show. . .show Kate. . .that she's not alone. None of them. That we care. Not just you and me, Dad, but this whole city. When a police officer is shot, when they're trying to do their jobs to keep us safe-"

"Hey, that's a good thought, Alexis." He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, tugging her close to him.

"More than a thought," she muttered, breaking free of his hug. "I want to do a blood drive. For the 12th. In. . .in Captain Montgomery's memory, but also as a way to show them that we want them all to come home every night, safe. Not just you, Dad, because you're important to me, but Kate too. And the other detectives, the police officers."

His throat had closed up at his daughter's earnest sincerity, her grief-fueled attempts to make things right.

"Wow. Alexis."

"Do you think Detective Beckett would mind?"

"Mind?"

"I want to have the blood drive at the 12th. Invite everyone in my school, and the police officers too. And whoever in the neighborhood can do it-"

"It's a great idea. Have you found any information on-"

"I already called the Red Cross. They do a mobile unit thing; they'll park outside the 12th all day long and people can just go when they get a chance. They said they can also set it up inside an empty conference room if we have a good initial sign-up-"

"I think that would be amazing. Wow. Alexis. I - I don't know what to say."

"Just. Talk to Kate about it? Maybe break the ice. And then I'll call her and talk to her?" Alexis played with the hem of her shirt. "Maybe. Maybe she'd talk to me? Like coffee or something?"

"Sure. Yeah. Of course. I'm sure she would."

Alexis gave him a tired but happier smile, relief etched into her features. "I know I didn't make much sense. But this is what I need to be doing, Dad. Something good. Something that means something. More than Stanford."

He hugged her again, let her go when she leaned back. "This is great, Alexis."

She stood up, squeezed his shoulder as she went past him. "Let me know when I should call her."

"I will."

She left him in his study, alone. Castle leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling, guilt and worry swirling in his head for what he'd done.

His girl. His little girl.

But no. Not his little girl.

* * *

><p>Kate had coffee for him when he arrived; she held it out to him with a little smirk. "I thought you might be rushed this morning."<p>

"You just get here?" he asked, noticing her full cup as well. Gratefully taking what she offered. "Thanks."

"Only fifteen minutes ago. Alexis all set up?"

He nodded back, worried, anxious for his daughter. "Think it will go well?"

"Yes." Kate gave him an intense look. "Around here? This kind of thing, Castle. . .you should know by now. You guys will be in for life."

He grinned at her, the tightness in his chest easing. "I don't care about being in, so much as my daughter not failing at this."

"You're in, Castle. And now? So is she."

He watched her for a moment, sipping at his coffee to give him an excuse for saying nothing. He wondered if her statement was. . .was two-fold? A way to say something to him without saying what she couldn't say.

He's in.

"She should have them lined up on the sidewalk," Kate continued.

"Actually. . ." He grinned at her, pride lifting the edges of his mouth. "There *was* a line on the sidewalk. When we showed up. Some of the guys on third shift-"

She grinned back. "Told ya."

"She really needs this," he said quietly, the intensity of his fatherhood washing back over him again. "She needs it to go well."

"It will," she assured him, hooking her arm through his and dragging him down the hall towards her desk.

He let her lead, then dropped to his chair beside her desk. He sipped at the hot coffee again, thought about the way his daughter's face had lit up seeing the guys in their off-duty clothes, people from the surrounding neighborhood lined up to wait for the Blood Mobile before it had even arrived.

"Castle?"

He glanced to her, eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"

"You know. . .this is a really *good* thing she's doing."

He smiled around his coffee, not sure why he appreciated that so much. Felt like he needed it though. "Yeah. Her idea. I just - she wanted to make a difference. You know, she said she wanted to be like you." He wriggled his eyebrows at her, smiling, but she didn't seem to take it well.

"Me?"

"Well. It just. . .it affected her, Kate. How could it not?"

She must've understood him, because something heavy fell over her face, shuttering her eyes. "Right."

"It affected everyone. You the most, obviously. But. . .she wanted to make it right. To fix it."

But Kate was nodding at him, that introspective nod that meant she was listening to something inside her, that still small voice. "Yeah. To fix it."

"She's not much like me, Kate," he offered, his chest squeezing at the thought. "I think that's not been easy for her. I can't - can't always relate, even though-"

"No. You do. You have - that ability, Castle. To empathize. We all see it. I know she does too."

He took a deep breath, smelling rich coffee, and it settled his panicked-bird of a heart. "Yeah. Good. I - I hope so. Being a writer, it's easier to get inside people's heads - or so I like to think. But sometimes, I don't know with her. And she's female." He quirked his lips at Kate and she smiled back. "What I mean is, I just really appreciate you taking this on with her. Helping her out. Because she knows that you understand."

Kate made her hands busy with the paperwork on her desk; he watched them rifle pages, straighten edges, flutter.

"Yes," she said finally. "I do understand. When you see it in front of you. And it affects you. And you're different. I just don't want Alexis to be me, Castle. To be like me."

Castle shook his head, reached out to still one of those hands, his trapping hers to the desktop. Her whole body stilled as well.

"If she were like you, Kate, that would be - wonderful. I'd love for her to be so strong, so complex a woman, so independent and graceful and powerful-"

He stumbled off, realizing how much he'd confessed. How little. How not enough.

Kate didn't take her eyes from his, as if she were assessing his statement. "Thank you." She lowered her gaze, darted her eyes back to the computer that was just now loading her profile.

He nodded, released her hand.

"Thank you, Kate. For being the one." He waited until her eyes raised back to his. "To help her."

* * *

><p>Kate was startled at noon when Alexis came up to the bullpen, full of bright sunshine and excitement. She had brought lunch up with her, apparently on a texted request from Castle. Kate stopped peering at the murder board, flipped it over to the clean side, and pushed the Castles towards the conference room.<p>

"Let's eat," she agreed.

Over fat deli sandwiches from the little place on the bottom floor, they discussed the blood drive and Alexis's success. Kate swiped at her mouth with a napkin, soaking up Italian dressing, and noticed Castle watching her. She licked the corner of her mouth for good measure and saw him shift in his chair.

She ignored the answering thrill in her stupid, raw heart.

"So how many pints total?" Kate asked, trying to ruthlessly shove down all those feelings. Feelings she had no good use for.

"I don't know yet. But over two hundred people have been registered as donors in the last three hours. And before that, about a hundred. So I think it's a lot. A lot of blood."

"Hey," Castle said suddenly. "I haven't given blood yet! I should go stand in line after lunch."

"I wish I could," Kate added, a little thoughtlessly, not paying complete attention, watching the light from the window shadow Castle's face, the line of his jaw as he chewed.

Alexis's intake of breath reminded her; she turned to the girl, tried to ease the comment with a smile.

"You can't - can't because you've received a transfusion recently," Alexis said, her voice numb, apparently just now relating one thing to the other.

Damn. "Yeah. Sorry. I think you're doing something amazing here. I wish I could be more a part of it." Was that a good enough distraction?

Alexis shook her head, dropped her sandwich to the wrapper. "Oh no. No. You have done so much, Kate. Really. I can't thank you enough."

Castle intervened, thank goodness, and put the conversation back on its tracks. "Do you give blood yet, Alexis?"

"Oh yeah, I got to go first," Alexis replied, grinning cutely. She seemed okay again. "They do this whole work-up. I answered all these questions about medications, shots, how recently have you traveled outside the country." She laughed, taking another bite of her sandwich, then chewing quickly to swallow it. "And then when you're done, they take a little sample from a finger prick, and they tell you what blood type you are."

If Kate weren't already watching Castle, she might have missed the strange look that floated behind his eyes. But she had been watching, almost staring, grateful for the way he'd handled her slip-up, her casual remark about an event that had clearly not been casual to anyone, and so she noticed.

She noticed.

She didn't know what it meant, but she noticed.

"Did you know I was AB, Dad? I didn't know that. That's kinda cool. The nurse said AB is a universal recipient. Because I have no antibodies against the others. I don't remember learning that in biology class."

Grateful for that distraction of a conversation, Kate jumped in. "No, that's true," Kate said, but something was nudging at her even as she spoke. Something important. "And O is the universal donor, like-"

Oh. Like her father.

Castle was O blood type. O negative. He'd had to fill out his health history on the forms the lawyer made him sign; after the case with the knock-off hand bags where they'd been shot at, Kate herself had gone over those forms, memorized his health information, for just in case. Mostly as a talisman against needing the information in the back of an ambulance or in an ER.

He'd given blood at the hospital after she was shot. She remembered Josh telling her that; Josh, bitter and a little heartbroken already, knowing where they were going (nowhere), had told her he wished that his giving blood would help her. But he was B. Kate was O positive.

Castle had given blood, because he was O negative. Universal donor.

Alexis. Alexis couldn't be AB.

She cut her eyes to Castle; he was staring back at her. Pleading.

Kate read it there, all of it, and shut her mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dad, you wanna go down with me? Give blood now?" Alexis eyes were on her father.

Kate sucked in a breath, dived in to rescue him. "Are you balking, Castle? Alexis, looks like I better go with him, hold his hand when he gets scared."

Alexis jerked her head back to look at Kate, a flicker of hope across her face, because of the teasing. The flirting.

Damn. Not her intention.

"Detective Beckett better go with me," Castle said, his voice smooth. The cover-up undetectable.

How long had he been doing this?

"I've got a couple more things I have to do, and then we'll be down, Alexis." Kate smiled at the girl, helped her clean the trash off the table from their lunch. Her heart was pounding.

When Alexis hugged her father good-bye and went back down to the Blood Mobile, Kate sank against the conference room table beside his chair, stared at the door, at the negative space where Alexis had left.

She swallowed hard.

Castle leaned back in his chair, put his hand on her thigh, his thumb stroking absently. "Fast thinking."

She looked down at him, hands planted on either side of her for balance, watched the careful way he wrapped up all feeling behind his eyes. Until it was gone. She'd seen that before.

She had questions. She was a detective. Poking her nose where it didn't belong was second nature, but right now, this moment, she couldn't do it.

She nodded. The room was silent. His palm on her thigh was warm, heavy. It seemed an afterthought.

"I won't tell her, Castle. Anyone. Ever."

He removed his hand, stood up, his chair clattering back. He shrugged his shoulders back into his jacket and stood with his hands limp, his eyes on the door as well. She thought he looked. . .defeated.

"Thank you."

He opened the door and walked out.

* * *

><p>In the open atrium on the ground floor of the 12th precinct, Kate stood off to one side, behind a pillar, and waited for Alexis to sit down with the woman next in line. With the girl now occupied with administrative duties, Kate gestured for Castle to follow her.<p>

They weaved their way through the crowded foyer, Castle's hand somehow in hers, _so we won't get separated,_ heading towards the Blood Mobile. Castle had a donor card, so he was hoping to skip the registration line where his daughter was volunteering.

Kate rapped against the door of the trailer and walked in, apologizing with a look to the off-duty uniform who'd been next in line. A nurse met them at the front and gave her a puzzled look.

"Ms. - er - Detective Beckett?"

"Yes. You're Alisha, right? Ms. Masters? We spoke on the phone, and then I came and picked up that roll of stickers for Alexis Castle."

"Yes, yes, right." The nurse smiled back and waved her forward. "And who's this?"

Castle crowded in close behind her, and Kate turned, gesturing to him. "This is Alexis's father. Richard Castle."

"Oh! Oh my word. The novelist. I didn't make the connection."

Castle grinned, his playboy grin, and turned on the charm. Only Kate could see how thin it was, how it had worn out in some places.

"That's me. Your surprise means I don't look old enough to have a teenaged daughter. Right?"

"Oh, oh, well no." Alisha didn't flush; Kate gave her that. But she did back up a step and put a hand to her chest. "We're just - this is really - I mean, I love your books. And oh, Kate Beckett!"

Kate, startled, rejoined the conversation. "Yes?"

"You're Nikki Heat!"

She felt Castle shift beside her, his hand brush hers, pinky fingers hooking. "She's not Nikki. But she is my muse. I get to tag along with her and the other members of her team."

Alisha had already put the rest of the puzzle pieces together; Kate could tell by the sudden dimming of her eyes, the shadow that ghosted over her. She knew Kate had been shot, figured out what Alexis was doing with the blood drive.

Kate was surprised that it didn't bother her; she was. . .proud that Alexis wanted to do this, had organized this whole thing in response to tragedy. Proud that Alexis cared.

Castle lifted an arm and rolled up his sleeve. "Well, I guess it's my turn. Kate's here for moral support."

_Kate._

Beckett, she thought, but couldn't correct him. In front of these people. She could see two more nurses bleeding patients dry, sorry, donating blood, and she followed Castle back to an empty chair.

Alisha handed him over to the nurse there, introducing him only as Alexis's father.

Alexis's father.

Kate was struck by how incongruous it sounded now, out of a stranger's lips. Not wrong, not at all, just. . .peculiar. Like a funny taste in her mouth. Like knowing the ending to a film as she watched it for the first time in the theatre, guessing the outcome, and being certain that's how it had to be: _oh, he *is* one of the dead people._

The nurse took down his information from the donor card and his profile came right up on her computer screen. "Oh, good. Universal donor."

Kate held her breath, but the woman said nothing about Alexis, about anything, and even though the moment was already over and past, so quickly, she still reached out and took Castle's free hand, surprised at the intensity of her need. Comfort. Relief. Shock.

He squeezed back, as if he knew exactly.

The fat yellow band was tied around his upper arm; he was given a neon pink stress ball to squeeze in his right hand. Kate kept ahold of his left and sat in the chair beside his station, trying not to think.

She averted her gaze when the nurse put the needle in, felt Castle squeeze her hand.

"You're not. . .squeamish." He chuckled at her and squeezed her hand again. "Kate. Dead bodies. Every week. Gruesome, dead bodies. Bloated. Stabbed. Flies. That smell."

"Thanks," she breathed and met his eyes. Then realized he wasn't trying to help distract her, he was pointing out the irony. "Oh. Yes. Well. They're dead. And you're alive. And that was a needle."

He lifted an eyebrow and Kate's eyes went involuntarily to the dark red line filling the tube, curling, down to the first pack. A strange flutter set up in her chest.

"Are you next, honey?" The large woman in the next chair over gave Kate a grin. "It's no problem. Easy. Promise."

Kate shook her head. "Just here as moral support."

The judgment that drew across the donor's face didn't phase Kate a bit. She couldn't care less what this woman thought of her, wearing her holster and shield and not giving blood. She had already turned back to Castle, but he was sitting up to look at the woman, defending Kate's honor.

So to speak.

"She can't give blood. She got shot. She's the reason we're doing this."

Her chest squeezed tighter; Kate, in retaliation, squeezed Castle's hand just as tight. _Shut up. _The nurse was trying to get him to lay back, and he did, blinking at her.

The nurse handed him a sprite and told him to take small sips. Then she headed to the front of the Blood Mobile, leaving them mostly alone.

"Castle," she chided.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, apparently still offended for her.

Just the same. Same man as yesterday, as the week before. Same man as two hours ago, before lunch, when she knew less and more all at once.

Alexis's father.

"How long?" she asked suddenly, and her hand clenched against his, without her say.

Castle turned his eyes to hers, the can of Sprite between his knees, unopened, and rhythmically squeezed the neon pink ball. Not saying anything.

Kate let go of his hand and reached for the Sprite, popped it open. The nurse had left a straw on the little table drawn up to his chair. She slit the paper open at the top, started to tug on it, but changed her mind.

Let her instinct take over. Her baser nature. Her. . .the Castle side of her.

She lifted the straw to her lips and blew the paper into his face.

He laughed out loud, flinching even as he laughed, and crushed the straw paper to his chest, staring at her.

Kate smirked and stuck the straw in his sprite, handed over the can. He squeezed the neon ball and took a sip, the faint edges of his smile still clinging to his lips.

"All her life," he said finally, sipped again.

All her life.

Kate closed her eyes, took a breath, opened them again. He was watching her, studying her for signs of stress, like an engineer might study a theoretical model of his design. Looking for weakness. Would she hold up?

Yes.

"At birth?"

Castle shrugged. "Knew for sure then."

Had doubts before that. Her throat closed up. Amazing man. Just.

She put her hand over her mouth and propped her elbow against his chair, watching him back. Studying *him* for signs of stress, cracks in his foundation. She found none.

"Wow."

He quirked his lips at her, glanced to his right as the other woman was allowed to rise from the chair. Her assigned nurse followed her to the back where Kate could see a table with cookies, crackers, more sprite. The woman sat there while the nurse took her pulse, making sure the woman, post-donation, wouldn't faint.

Castle put the sprite back between his knees and took her hand again. His was clammy from the condensation, but strong, and that was its own warmth.

"Kate."

She drew her eyes back up to his face. She already knew what he was going to say. "Doesn't change anything."

He sighed, relief and acknowledgement. "Doesn't change anything."

There was a story here, a story she wasn't privy to, might never be allowed to hear. And that hurt; she wanted his secrets, wanted him bared to her, wanted all of him.

More.

"You have full custody," she said slowly.

He didn't confirm or deny, but she already knew it. No paternity test then. And Meredith either never contested this qualification of their divorce, or she had too much denial to even think about bringing it up as a point of contention.

Damn. The things this man had gone through, to keep this little girl.

His little girl.

Yes. His daughter. "I - I can't imagine," she said finally, meeting his eyes again.

He was smiling that soft, eyes-crinkled smile. "There's nothing to imagine, Kate."

Amazing man. She'd thought it before, now again. Still, to take this small thing that needed a parent, needed love and attention and time and sacrifice, and to make it your own, to love it, the little cuckoo, to father the fledgling-

Doesn't change anything, he'd said. She'd said it first. Because she knew him, knew Richard Castle, and the lengths he went to.

She ached with it. With the story not told, the ending not written, the story rewritten into a happy ending for one girl who would never know.

Never needed to know.

Kate wanted to ask _If not you, then who?_ and she wanted to know his dark-of-the-night second-guessings; she wanted to find Meredith and look her in the eye with that knowledge; she wanted to stroke the side of his face and promise it would never happen again, that she would never do that-

Oh.

_oh._

Her hand tingled against her thigh, the blood warm in anticipation. He still had his sprite-cold fingers wrapped around her other hand, and his eyes were closed as he squeezed the neon stress ball.

Her mouth was dry, her whole body jangling with nerves. The nurse would come back at any moment; her colleagues were right outside the trailer; her mother's murder still weighed against her heart like an albatross; her whole life had not prepared her for this. For what she was about to do.

She rose from the seat, her hand squeezing his in time with his squeeze to the stress ball. She gave in to need and brushed the hair from his forehead. He opened his eyes.

Kate leaned in and put her lips to his ear, a tumult thundering through her body, aching to get out.

"When it's me, you'll never have to wonder."


End file.
